


Coco, Coco, Coco!

by toad_in_the_road



Category: Beetlejuice - All Media Types, Beetlejuice - Perfect/Brown & King, Coco (2017)
Genre: Beetlejuice References, Broadway, Character Death, Character Turned Into a Ghost, Crossover, Dancing and Singing, F/M, I'm Sorry, Modern AU, Murder, Musical References, Netherworld, Welcome to a show about death, Why Did I Write This?, im gay
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-20
Updated: 2020-04-24
Packaged: 2020-12-27 00:48:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 14
Words: 14,783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21109946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/toad_in_the_road/pseuds/toad_in_the_road
Summary: Héctor Rivera is dead. There's no getting around that.As it turns out, death isn't very fair, and the pudgy man in his attic with the striped suit has no qualms about rubbing this in.The odd demon with the even odder name may promise he's here to help, but Héctor has a sneaking suspicion he's lying, and that the boy who moved into his house may now be entangled in something supernatural.But hell hath no fury like a father separated from his family.





	1. Prologue: Invisible

ACT I

It was a wonderful day to die, but Héctor Rivera didn’t know that.

He opened the door for his best friend and partner, Ernesto de la Cruz, grinning nervously. “Well? What do you think?”

Ernesto looked around the house, taking in the curvy staircase, sloping walls, and oversized doors. The wallpaper was striped, for some reason. “It looks like a funhouse.” He decided.

Héctor grinned. “That’s what I thought! The real estate agent kept trying to tell it it was, I don’t know, modern art or something, but I know better.” 

Ernesto raised his eyebrows, amused. “Why is the wallpaper…?”

Héctor shrugged. “Don’t ask me. I think it adds charm.”

_“Dios mios._ You better replace it or I won’t visit.” Ernesto grinned, only half joking.

“Oh, oh! Come on, I’ll show you the upstairs!” Héctor scrambled up the stairs, eager to show off the rest of his new house.

He pointed down the hall. “The bedroom at the end is for me and Imelda, and across from that is Coco’s room.” He beamed at the thought of the toddler, who would see the house today. He opened the doors, showing off the empty rooms as if they were filled with gold.

“There’s an attic too, in our closet.” Héctor added. “I’m not entirely sure what I’m going to do with that. Maybe a playroom for Coco?”

Ernesto scoffed. “Or, hypothetically, a recording studio? You already rejected that house downtown, the one closest to the studios.” 

Héctor sighed, picking at his fingernails nervously. “I already explained to you, that one was far out of our price range.”

“What’s life without a little risk? A little adventure!” Ernesto said cheerfully.

_Yes, crippling debt. What an adventure._

“Anyway, I guess even with your funhouse, we’ll be fine. Look, I got us some new spots in a few bars downtown, we-”

“Actually…” Héctor trailed off. “I’ve...been thinking about the tours.”

Ernesto looked confused. “What do you mean?”

“I...I want to take a break.” Héctor said.

Ernesto blinked.

“I...the traveling has been tough on Imelda and Coco. We discussed it, and we decided that I should focus on my family.” He said, glancing at the flickering light. Great. Now they might need an electrician. 

“...you’re kidding, right?” Ernesto said, voice a whisper. “You...are you serious?! We’re this close! I can feel it! A little more traveling, and we’ll finally have ourselves on the map! This is our dream!”

“This was your dream. You can still play-” Héctor said, but jumped when Ernesto grabbed his arm. 

“I need your songs! I can’t do it without them!” His eyes narrowed. “Was it Imelda?! I always knew she was a snake-”

Héctor yanked away, fury suddenly flaring. “Don’t you dare say anything about her. This was my choice. I was the one who brought it up.”

“You can’t quit!” Ernesto yelled, looking desperate.

“I made up my mind! Hate me if you want, but I’m done. My family is more important.” Héctor snapped, fighting the urge to punch Ernesto for his insult to Imelda.

For a second, Ernesto looked furious, almost...almost dangerous. Then, it passed, and the man sighed. “I...I apologize, _amigo._ I shouldn’t have said that. It...it’s a shock, but…” He smiled bravely, like he was facing a great tragedy. “I’ll manage. I could never hate you.”

Héctor let out a breath he didn’t realize he had been holding. _“Gracias._ That means the world to me.”

Ernesto smiled. “Now, let’s grab the others and introduce them to their new life, eh?” He walked towards the stairs, waiting for Héctor to follow. 

Héctor followed, glancing out the window over the front door, smiling. He felt like a huge weight had been lifted off his shoulders, and now with his last loose end tied up, he was finally ready to start a new adventure, one that Ernesto may not understand, but at least he respected it.

A tree branch moved in the wind, causing more sunlight to stream through the window, directly into Héctor’s eyes. He squinted-

The carpeting must have been bunch up by his feet, because Héctor tripped over something, caught off guard. He windmilled forward with a surprised yelp, straight over the balcony, twenty feet off the ground.

There was a harsh feeling of impact, and an explosion of pain in his head, and then…

Blackness.

The last thing he saw was sunlight dancing on the striped walls.


	2. The Whole "Being Dead" Thing

Héctor blinked his eyes open with a confused groan, surprised that nothing hurt. 

Slowly, he sat up, waiting for a stab of pain, anywhere really. It had been a hard fall. But there was nothing. 

Héctor glanced up to tell Ernesto he was fine, but the man was nowhere to be seen. 

“Ernesto?” He called up. No answer.

He stood up shakily, brushing himself off. It seemed darker. He looked out the window, surprised to see that dark clouds covered the sun. That was quick…

“Ernesto!” He called again, getting nervous. Still nothing.

The front door swung open, and a tall man with a mustache came in, followed by a short, pale woman with red hair done up in a bun. “As you can see, this is a perfect example of modern art architecture.” She said sweetly.

“Hey, hey, what are you doing in here?!” Héctor asked. The two ignored him, walking right past him. 

Héctor gaped. Were people really that rude?

“Hey! Hello?! What are you doing in my house?!” He asked, this time louder. Still nothing. He rushed forward, stepping in front of the woman and man. “I would really like to know what’s going on-”

They walked right through him.

Almost instantly, Héctor froze, and time seemed to stop. How...what was happening…?

Maybe this was one of those prank shows that was so popular now. Yes, that made sense. But were special effects really that advanced…?

He reached out, trying to tap the man on the shoulder, but his hand went right through. The man shivered slightly, and just continued to follow the woman.

Héctor turned slowly, looking at the spot where he had fallen. If he squinted, he could almost see a stain, faded and scrubbed, but stubbornly marking a spot where-

“I died.” Héctor said, the word bitter in his mouth. 

But, no no no, that couldn’t be right. He had to get back to Imelda, get back to Coco-oh God, Coco, what would she think?!

Héctor gasped, suddenly unable to breathe, which was totally unfair, because he didn’t need to breathe because he was DEAD (worm chow, a box underground, it was too early) but nevertheless, he wheezed, invisible limbs threatening to collapse on him.

The man and woman emerged from the kitchen, and Héctor ran, desperate to get away from these invaders even if they were unaware of his presence. (Invisible, unimportant, and now he had left everyone and that wasn’t fair, he needed to see Coco and sing her the song or she would never go to bed)

He sprinted up the flights of stairs, reaching for the craggy door to the attic, only the somehow trip (could dead people trip? Apparently) and fly through the door, passing through like...well, like a ghost.

He sat on the wood floor, trying to catch his breath. “I’m dead.” He said again, and squeezed his eyes shut. This had to be a dream.

“Oh, hey. You’re here!” A scratchy voice said. Héctor jumped, surprised to see a short, portly man sitting on a dusty sofa. His hair was an odd shade of green, like he had dyed it poorly, and his face was ashen, purple-ish bags under his eyes that were only more prominent with the odd splotches of gray-green across his face that looked like...well, it looked like mold was growing on his face. He had a stubble beard, and looked entirely relaxed in his black and white suit, like a vertical zebra with grass stains on his head.

“You...who are you?” Héctor asked. “You...can see me?” He added hopefully.

The man grinned, his teeth the same odd color as the splotches on his face. “Don’t get too excited, buddy. I’m dead too. And so are you!”

Héctor blinked. “This is a dream.” He said, but his voice wavered.

The man shook his head. “Nah. Can we also just, like, skips the tears and stuff, because I’m not in the mood-”

“I can’t be dead.” Héctor said breathlessly, not noticing the man growl and mutter curses. “My...my family! My wife and daughter! They-!”

“Look man, hate to break it to you, but death isn’t fair. That’s the thing about life, no one makes it out alive. So can you whine and mope in private where I don’t have to hear it?” The man asked.

Héctor glared at the man, oddly furious for the nonchalant attitude. He had just died, and this rando couldn’t even show a little sympathy?! “Who-”

“Beetlejuice is the name!” The man leapt up, evidently eager to talk about himself. “Ghost-demon, freelance bio-exorcist.” He handed Héctor a business card that seemed to have materialized out of nowhere. 

Héctor squinted, cursing himself for not getting his reading glasses. (What did that matter?! He was dead dead dead dead-) “Er, this says Netherworld’s third best male escort…”

“Whoops!” Beetlejuice snatched the card, and it burst into flames. “Could have sworn I got rid of all those…” He fished through his pockets, pulling out another card. “Here!”

Héctor glanced at the card.

<strike>BETELGUESE</strike>  
BEETLEJUICE  
Ghost-Demon  
Bio-Exorcist

“I’m confused.” Héctor said.

“Look, you’re dead.” Beetlejuice said bluntly. “You fell over the balcony, and your brains went-” He blew a raspberry, miming an exploding head.

“Did you see it?” Héctor asked, confused.

“No.” Beetlejuice said too quickly. He shuffled awkwardly. “Alright, so you’re stuck in your house. And now these randos are coming in and taking it over! No respect! Don’t you wanna get rid of them?!”

Héctor didn’t really want to think about that right now. He wanted to curl up and cry, figure out a way to get back to Imelda and Coco, or at least apologize to them. 

Beetlejuice seemed to take his silence for agreement. “Yeah! So here’s the deal. You gotta scare ‘em.” 

“What’s a ghost demon?” Héctor asked.

Beetlejuice blinked. “Pardon?”

“Your business card says ghost demon.” 

Beetlejuice sighed. “That means I’m a demon who’s also a ghost.”

Héctor blinked, mind shooting through his Catholic knowledge. “Demons aren’t human-”

Beetlejuice glared. “How about this; I’m the guy who’s been dead a long-ass time, so I’ve picked up some tricks to this trade. That work for ya?” 

Héctor blinked, pretty sure that wasn’t how it worked, but hey, this wasn’t what he expected the afterlife to be like, so…

“Why...why do I need to scare the new people off?” He asked.

Beetlejuice looked at him like he was crazy. “Because...you don’t want them in your house?” He sighed. “Oh my GOD, just my luck, I get the little bitch ghost…”

Héctor bristled. “Hey-”

“If you’re gonna be hanging around here forever, don’t you want some alone time?!” Beetlejuice demanded. 

“I’d rather be alive!” Héctor argued.

“Once again, genius, you aren’t! And unless you have some magical powers that can resurrect the dead, you’re just gonna have to suck it up and deal with it!” Beetlejuice stomped his foot, looking like an overgrown toddler.

Héctor swallowed hard, struggling not to cry. He wouldn’t be weak in front of this...whatever it was.

Beetlejuice seemed to realize he had made a mistake, and sighed, running his hand through his green hair. A large tuft of it fell out. Gross.

“Okay okay...how about this. You mentioned a family? Well, I can get them here-” 

Héctor gasped. “Really?!”

Beetlejuice nodded. “Yeah! Just lure them here, set a few strategically placed knives around-”

“No!” Héctor squeaked. “You can’t kill them!” 

Beetlejuice threw his hands up. “Alright! Alright! Fine, whatever. Look, you’re a newly-dead. You’re basically a little baby ghost. Haunting give you power. With that, you might be able to build up power to look for them.” 

Héctor paused, allowing himself to imagine the perfect scenario. A proper goodbye, maybe. A final song.

“...alright.” He said. “How do I do that?”

Beetlejuice grinned. “I’m so glad you asked.”


	3. Ready, Set, Not Yet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wait for me reprise from hadestown but hector is singing it and every time the chorus sings he shudders with orange light from the final death you're welcome

Miguel looked at the walls in distaste. The walls were striped, and not even straight. They leaned slightly, presenting the odd optical illusion that the whole house was leaning to the side.

The stairs didn’t help. They curved, swirling upwards to the second floor, looking almost like a stretched slinky. Miguel made a face, unsure what to make of it.

In a way, his dad decided for him. He made his own face at the walls. “Ugh. We’ll tear down that wallpaper.”

If his dad didn’t like it, Miguel made it his mission to keep it. “I like it.” He said, a note of challenge in his voice.

Charles sighed, irritated. “Mhm.” He said quietly, deciding it wasn’t worth a fight. “Oh, you can start setting up your room, but don’t start anything big; Delia’s coming in an hour.” 

Miguel made a face. “Ew.”

Charles gave him a look. “Don’t be rude.”

“She’s weird, Dad. She was going on about chakras and stuff...she sounds like a Jonestown follower.” Miguel shivered.

“Don’t say that.” Charles scolded, sounding more irritated now.

“It’s true! I don’t need a life coach anyway. That’s for people who are, like, addicted to drugs or something” _I need Mamá._

“You don’t need to be in crisis to get advice!” Charles protested, looking more and more sick of this conversation.

“I think you’re thinking of a therapist. Which Delia is not.” Miguel paused, glancing around the house again. “Didn’t someone die in here?” 

“Don’t be morbid!” Charles peeked out the door, sighing when the moving truck was nowhere in sight. “But, if you have to know, yes. Some guy-probably homeless-was squatting here and he fell off the railing. Probably drunk.”

“And they didn’t replace the railings? Okay.” Miguel was slightly amused by that, figuring it was only a matter of time before someone else made the same mistake. Hopefully it wouldn’t be him.

“Miguel, can you stop being difficult for one minute?!” Now Charles was getting flustered, and Miguel really wasn’t in the mood for another shouting match. Hitching his backpack over his shoulder, he stomped up the stairs, noting the striped wallpaper didn’t stop, but it didn’t cut off in odd places, overlapping each other and making it almost look like there were things hidden under the thin paper.

Miguel was quite disappointed to learn, after poking one of the odd patches in the vague shape of a face, that this was only an optical illusion. Finding random things behind the wallpaper would have been cool. 

He chose a room near the stairwell, noting the window had a funny circle shape, as if it was going to be stained glass, and then the builders changed their minds. The ceiling slanted, causing only half of the room to be usable. 

Miguel went to open the window, only to jump when the window creaked and swung open, a draft of cold autumn air drifting into the room. Great. So the whole house was decrepit. However, there was an odd tree branch sticking out by the window. Maybe Miguel could jump onto it and parkour down. That would be cool.

He glanced down at the iron fence, sharp spikes protruding from it like it jumped straight out of a Gothic movie.

Maybe he’d try parkour some other time.

Miguel sat down on the floor, dumping out the contents of his bag. A few books, stray pencils, and a mint which he immediately popped into his mouth. Carefully, he reached into the bag, pulling out his hidden treasure-a picture of him and his mother, only weeks before disaster struck.

He stared at it, surprised he wasn’t bursting into tears. That had been the pattern for the first few weeks, but now it just...made him mad. Not at Mamá, it wasn’t her fault. But why was Charles so determined to just get on with it?

“Hi.” Miguel said, feeling a bit stupid, talking to a photo. If by some off chance Mamá hadn’t just become part of the eternal void, he didn’t think she’d stick around. She wouldn’t want to come to some creepy old house someone had died in. Who would want to be stuck here?

“So...this sucks.” Miguel told the photo, trying to sound nonchalant. “We’re in Maine. It’s not fun and...I don’t know why I’m doing this.” Miguel carefully put the photo back in his bag, his hands starting to shake, the first warning sign a meltdown was coming.

_Don’t cry don’t cry don’t cry._

How could Charles just...move on? As angry as he was with him, Miguel envied him. He would give anything to go back to the way things were.

Miguel struggled with a silent battle with tears, more alone than ever.


	4. Fright of Their Lives

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you couldn't tell, I made miguel's dad white in this story to kind of show off their disconnect. because of this, hector and miguel have no relationship. they're just a chaotic duo

“No no no...try again.” Beetlejuice sighed, starting to sound mad.

“Well, sorry.” Héctor said sarcastically. “We’ve been up here for hours, and according to you I’m not any scarier.”

“They can’t see you! And you still can’t move anything! You might as well be a light breeze. Pathetic. You gotta learn how to do stuff like...like jumpscares! That jerky Japanese walk! Ever seen _The Grudge?_ Of course you haven’t, you’d pee your pants.” Beetlejuice paced, not waiting for Héctor to protest. 

“Or-” He cupped his hand up to his mouth. “Throw your voice!” His scratchy voice echoed from the other side of the room.

“That’s...cool.” Héctor admitted. “I want to do that.”

“You’re not gonna be able to do anything the way you are right now! You’re more boring than white bread! White bread with Spam! And not even pumpkin spice Spam or anything gross or interesting.” Beetlejuice stopped pacing, floating a couple inches off the ground. “You gotta get emotional!”

Héctor wrinkled his eyebrows. “What?”

“Yeah! Get mad! In this world it’s get pissed off or get pissed on, so get angry or get kinky!” Before Héctor could dispute this, Beetlejuice disappeared in a puff of smoke, appearing on the couch again. “What makes you mad? You gotta start there to change your shape, or be seen, or do anything.”

“I...I don’t know. There’s things that annoy me, but-”

“Give me some examples!” Beetlejuice insisted.

“Well...I guess when people are really late. That’s a bit annoying-” Héctor said. 

“Yeah! Go kill a late person!” Beetlejuice cheered.

“Again, I do not want to kill anyone!” Héctor snapped.

“Fine! What else makes you mad?!” Beetlejuice said.

“I don’t know! I’m not filled with rage very often.” Héctor said.

“Not even that everyone you know is gone?” Beetlejuice said slyly.

Héctor stiffened. 

“Yeah, that’s what I thought, Mariachi Man. How’s it feel? They’re gone. You’re trapped here. You’re probably never gonna see them again.” Beetlejuice grinned, showing off his nasty, moldy teeth.

_“Cállate.”_ Héctor managed to growl out. 

Beetlejuice laughed. “Come on, get mad! You’re never gonna see anyone you care about again, your kid is gonna grow up without her dad-maybe she’ll resent you-and your wife is gonna be a widow!”

“I said stop!” Héctor snapped.

“Yes yes!” Beetlejuice began floating again, looking gleeful, almost proud. “You be lonely forever, the chances of them finding you when they finally croak-”

“At least I have a family! People who love me!” Héctor snapped. “Not that you would know anything about it!” 

There was a silence as Beetlejuice looked surprised for a split second, and then he scowled, for a second looking very dangerous. It occurred to Héctor that, goofy as this guy was, he was still quite powerful from what he had seen. 

Then Beetlejuice huffed, looking like a sulky teenager. “Congrats. You changed shape. I’d continue from there, but I don’t think you need me anymore.” 

Héctor looked down, confused, and nearly yelped. His arms had lost their skin and muscle, showing off only bone. He touched his face gently, grimacing when he felt his bare skull. He had turned into a skeleton.

“I-” Héctor started, but with a loud pop, Beetlejuice disappeared.

And Héctor was alone once again.


	5. Dead Mom

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yall the animated Beetlejuice series SLAPS

Miguel awoke very early to the sound of something knocking over a trash can. 

He huffed, glancing over to his clock. According to the clock, it was five thirty in the morning. Far too early for...well, to do anything.

The trashcan clattered again.

Miguel groaned, irritated, tip-toeing down to the front door, throwing his coat on and wincing when he bare feet touched the freezing pavement. A light, almost invisible frost covered the grass; the first signs of the cold creeping in. 

Miguel crept to the edge of the yard, peeking around the corner. The trash can was on its side, rattling around. That must have been a BIG raccoon. 

Carefully, Miguel picked up a rock, prepared to throw it if the raccoon turned nasty-not that raccoon were generally pleasant-and took another step forward.

The animal must have sensed him, because suddenly the trash can was discarded, and Miguel saw a blue of dark grey race towards him, and he fell when-

The ugliest, smelliest, most slobbery dog Miguel had ever seen in his life was sitting on top of him, licking him.

Miguel yelped shrilly, scrambling back. “No no no no! Eugh!” But he laughed all the same.

Back home, most of his friends had dogs. But just his luck, his dad was allergic. Although, Miguel realized the dog didn’t have any hair.

Miguel carefully pushed the dog off, worried he had some sort of severe skin disease or something. Could dogs get leprosy? But the dog looked fine. Sure, he was mangy and scrappy, and missing a few teeth, but he looked like he wasn’t in any pain, and he was certainly in good spirits, yapping excitedly, rushing up to Miguel, begging for more attention.

To be honest, the dog kind of looked like a giant rat, but Miguel bent down all the same, grinning when the dog’s tail wagged so fast his entire body vibrated. 

A harsh wind blew across the lawn, and Miguel shivered, frowning when the dog followed suit. A hairless dog wasn’t going to do well for himself in the cold months…

Realizing he was probably going to regret this later, Miguel whistled softly, patting his legs to lure the dog over. “Come here boy! Wanna go inside?” 

The dog immediately followed, seeming to like the idea of going inside, panting good naturedly, lips stretched in a dog grin. Miguel made a face, not realizing how bad the dog had smelled until he got in. “Ugh. You need a bath.” He paused, suddenly thinking. “We don’t have dog soap...I’m pretty sure you need a specific soap for dogs. Is there a substitute?” Miguel wasn’t sure why he was speaking to the dog. He didn’t understand, and he was too busy sniffing the trashcan to care.

Miguel sighed. He supposed he could look up alternatives…

Suddenly, the dog perked up, racing up the winding stairs, eyes wide and focused. “Hey! No!” Miguel gasped, sprinting after him. If his dad found out…

The dog didn’t seem interested in any rooms, rounding a tight corner, going up the attic steps. Miguel groaned. The door to the attic was locked, and his dad had told him it was unfinished anyway. The stairway was wooden and tight, and Miguel had already gotten several splinters from accidentally backing into the wood wall.

“No! Come here! Come here boy!” Miguel hissed, trying to regain the dog’s attention. The dog ignored him, at the top of the steps by the locked door, scratching and whining.

“There’s nothing there. Come on!” Miguel whispered, wondering if the dog would bite him if he picked him up. 

The dog whimpered again, getting louder. 

Miguel decided to risk it, looping his arms under the dog’s stomach and hoisting him up. The dog whimpered and wriggled, but didn’t turn nasty, so Miguel figured he would be alright. He turned to leave-

A shadow passed under the doorframe. 

Miguel froze, nearly dropping the dog, his mind racing to improbable stories of hobos living in vents, eating food at night and eventually killing the home’s inhabitants. Miguel always thought those stories were dumb, but was it completely impossible?

The dog wriggled out of Miguel’s arms, dropping to the floor ungracefully. He heaved a big sigh, stood up, and shook himself out, uninterested with the door now. Miguel got down on his hands and knees, ignoring the sting of the splinters, looking under the door. 

There was nothing, except a faint light.

*** *** ***

Héctor stood at the top of the stairwell, watching the sun come up. 

He was exhausted, but whether from the lack of sleep, turning skeletal and then back, or just a holdover from being alive, he had no idea.

It looked like it was pretty outside, but Héctor already knew it was useless trying to leave the house. Last time he did, he entered a sandy, barren desert, filled with rocks that looked like Picasso’s nightmares and a distant roar of something big. 

Héctor had rushed back inside the house then.

He looked down into the living room, frowning in distaste. The new owner-Charles, he believed the name was-had begun to redo the house to make it his own. He was moving in modern furniture, and starting to tear down the striped walls that Héctor suddenly realized reminded him of Beetlejuice’s suit. He looked at the wall suspiciously, as if the ghost-demon might pop out at any moment.

Sure, the striped walls were weird, but Héctor liked them. He wanted to show them to Imelda, and jokingly suggest they keep it, maybe get Coco to gang up on her with him to convince her to keep one room striped, a sort of ode to the odd.

Charles had a taste for a modern interior decorating style. Héctor always hated it. It seemed so cold and impersonal, like a display case. Wasn’t a home supposed to be cozy, happy and fun?

Héctor sighed, leaning his head down on the banister. 

A low whimper caught his attention, and he looked up to see a wet, hairless...giant sausage? No, a dog. The dog cocked his head at Héctor curiously, wagging his tail slowly.

“...can you see me?” Héctor asked cautiously, stretching his hand out to the dog. The dog came forward slowly, looking nervous. He sniffed Héctor’s hand, then started wagging his tail faster, licking Héctor’s hand. He reeled back, shocked that he was able to feel it.

The dog wriggled, excited for the attention. Héctor couldn’t help but smile, kneeling down to scratch the dog behind the eyes. The dog’s leg twitched. Evidently Héctor had found a sweet spot. 

“Who’s a good boy? You are! Yes you are! You are such a good boy!” Héctor praised, beyond relieved that someone could see him, even if that someone was a dog that looked like a rat. 

The dog barked happily, and Héctor glanced up, hearing footsteps. “Dante, sh! Dad’ll wake up!” A child’s voice said worriedly. Héctor hadn’t realized Charles had a child. He patted the dog’s head one more time, standing up when a young boy, somewhere between ten and twelve, emerged from the hall.

He looked nothing like Charles, with darker skin and hair. He had on a bright red jacket, and jeans. His hair was wet-had he given the dog a bath?-and his eyes looked permanently sad. 

Héctor turned, ready to leave and find some other way to entertain himself when the boy spoke. 

“Who are you?!”


	6. No Reason

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I GOT ACCEPTED TO THE COLLEGE I WANT TO GO TO!!!!
> 
> ALSO IM SORRY FOR FORGETTING ABOUT THIS STORY IM MORE USELESS THAN PAUL ILY

Héctor froze for a second, thinking he imagined it. He didn’t dare turn around. 

“...who are you?!” The boy demanded again, sounding scared.

Héctor turned hesitantly, realizing the boy was staring straight at him, eyes wide and startled. 

“You...you can see me?” He asked softly. This only seemed to make the boy more scared.

“Are you living in our vents?!” The boy asked, sounding horrified.

“What? No! I’m dead.” Héctor said. He paused, immediately realizing what he sounded like. 

“Dad?!” The boy said, voice slowly rising, sprinting to another room.

Héctor sighed, glancing at the dog-Dante, the boy called him-and whistled to him. “I’d go hide out, _perrito._ I have a feeling you aren’t supposed to be here.” 

*** *** ***  
“Dad! Dad!” Miguel sprinted into his father’s room, flicking the lights on and off several times before the man stirred, looking up sleepily. 

“Miguel-” He said, sounding irritated.

“There’s someone in the house! I saw them!” Miguel said breathlessly. 

Without much urgency, Charles got out of bed, looking more and more irritated as he let his son drag him to where the strange man was still standing. “THERE!” Miguel yelped, jumping back. Dante wasn’t there, which was good, as Charles would likely be unhappy about the dog.

“What?” Richard asked, staring straight at the man. The man shrugged. 

“I told you. I’m dead, he can’t see me.” The man said sadly. “If I were you, I would stop. I don’t want him to think you’re crazy.”

Miguel paused, looking at his father. Charles stared straight at the man, not seeing anything. “N...never mind. I thought…” Miguel trailed off.

Charles glared at Miguel. “Go back to sleep. It’s too early.” The older man stomped off, leaving Miguel and a dead man.

“Who...are you?” Miguel asked.

“I’m Héctor Rivera. I...I was going to buy this house, but...I fell over the railing.” He smiled sadly. “Bad luck.”

That was odd. Miguel was fairly certain that his dad said the man who died here was some sort of squatter. “Why are you here?” Miguel asked.

“I can’t leave. For me, the outside is just a weird looking desert.” Héctor said, miserable. “I was trying to think of a way to get you to leave, scare you away-” He paused. “Ah, no offense-” 

“What?! Are you kidding?!” Miguel said. “I hate it here! It’s miserable, I want to go home.” 

Héctor perked up. “Really?”

Miguel nodded. “So I’m the only one who can see you. And Dante.” There was shuffling, and the canine emerged from the closet, wrapped in a bedsheet. Miguel rushed to help the dog before he choked himself. “Maybe we can help you.”

“Maybe I can put on the bed sheet. Classic ghost.” Héctor smiled proudly.

“No way. That’s not scary. That’s goofy.” Miguel shook his head. Dante grunted, shaking himself out. “Can you do any tricks? Make stuff float?”

“No.” Héctor said.

“Can you make the temperature drop?”

“No.”

“Can you crawl out of the TV?”

“What movies are you watching, _chamaco?!”_

Miguel huffed. “Well, no offense, you don’t make a very good ghost.”

“I’m new to this!” Héctor protested, running his hand through his hair. “Maybe your mother will be able to see me, I saw her yesterday-”

“That’s not my mom.” Miguel said, suddenly tense. “That’s Delia. My mom’s dead.”

“Oh.” Héctor swallowed hard. “I...I’m so sorry.”

Miguel gave a sort of shrug. “Thanks, I guess. I...don’t really know what to say when people say that.”

Héctor was quiet, entirely uncertain on how to comfort the boy. “I…” He paused. “I can do this?” He focused, willing his body to turn skeletal. Miguel gasped, and Héctor looked at his hands, seeing the white bones.

“Can you take off your head?!” Miguel asked excitedly.

Héctor had never really tried that, but he figured he might as well try. He reached up, and tugged on his head. He felt a weird, painless, snapping sensation at his neck, but suddenly he was holding his head.

He immediately dropped it in shock.

Miguel, however, cheered. “That’s awesome!” 

Héctor fumbled blindly for his head, giving a slight smile. If he could at least entertain Miguel, he figured it was something. Something to distract Miguel from his mother, and something to distract Héctor from missing Imelda and Coco so desperately his non-existent heart hurt.

“Alright, we’ll scare them. Tonight.” Miguel said. “We’ll MAKE them see you!”

*** *** ***

“AAAAH!” Miguel screamed, sprinting down the halls. Héctor followed, skeletal. 

The original plan had been to wait until three in the morning before haunting, but Miguel got antsy, so they amended the plans to midnight.

The entire day had been a stressful one. Héctor had tried to stay out of the way from Miguel and his family so it didn’t seem like he was stalking them, but finally being able to interact with someone-even if it was just glances when something comical happened-was absolutely thrilling. 

Héctor felt rather stupid for having believed that Delia was Miguel’s mother. The woman gave off a hippie vibe, which was only strengthened by her near obsession with crystals, and her constant quotations of her guru, Otho. Héctor had never met Otho, nor did he really know what a guru was, but he was fairly certain Delia was being scammed by him. 

Well, she seemed nicer than Charles, if not a bit air-headed.

Héctor shook his head, refocusing on his job of being so scary that Charles had to see him.

s

Miguel burst into his father’s bedroom. “DAD DAD! THE HOUSE IS HAUNTED!” 

Charles jolted awake, looking startled. “Wazzat?!” He asked blearily. 

“It’s haunted! Look!” Miguel pointed to Héctor, who juggled his head helpfully.

“Oooooh!” He moaned, feeling silly, but Miguel nodded encouragingly.

“This again?!” Charles asked, exasperated. “Miguel-”

“No no no! Look! It’s a ghost! He wants us out!” Miguel said.

“I want you out!” Héctor added.

“Come on come on! We have to-” Miguel yanked the covers off the bed, and froze immediately. 

Delia was lying next to Charles, trying to make herself look very small.

Héctor froze as well, suddenly wishing he had never been seen by Miguel. He was tempted to disappear, but he couldn’t leave Miguel.

“What...what’s this?” Miguel asked in a small voice, though he seemed to know exactly what this was.

Charles sighed, pompous mask slipping. “I...I didn’t want you to find out like this. But...Delia and I are engaged.”

Miguel was silent for a long moment. “You...what?”

Charles at least looked guilty. “I know these last few months have been hard on everyone, especially you. But...we can’t live in the past forever, Miguel. What happened was awful, and I would do anything to change it, but we need to move forward. You need a mother-”

“I HAVE a mother!” Miguel said, voice cracking.

“Miguel, I…” Delia trailed off, looking like she wasn’t sure whether she was allowed to speak or not. “I know we don’t see eye to eye, but I really do care about you. If...if we gave each other a chance, we...we could be a family.”

She offered her hand to Miguel, who recoiled as if she had tried to stab him.

“I wish I were dead!” 

And before the two living people or dead man could say anything to rebuke that, Miguel sprinted from the room, eyes stinging with tears.


	7. On the Roof

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOOOOO

“Fuck mood hair.” Beetlejuice stared at the floating mirror, continuously messing with his hair. It stayed stubbornly purple. 

“Come on!” He huffed, waving his hand. The mirror disappeared. 

“Stupid sexy mariachi man. Not MY fault he’s in denial. Just trying to help.” He muttered. It was stupid that newly dead’s off hand insult had thrown him so much, but here he was. Purple haired. 

Beetlejuice huffed, staring up at the moon. Maybe he should have haunted that guy who pushed Héctor off the balcony. Guilt made people paranoid. Of course, the guy didn’t seem too guilty. 

“Fuck this curse. Fuck being dead. Fuck everything. Including mariachi man.” Beetlejuice decided. 

How was he supposed to get a living person to say his name when the only other person who could see him didn’t want to help?! 

If he told the truth, maybe Héctor would be swayed to his side. And maybe want to kiss him. Or something. 

Beetlejuice shook his head with a growl. Tell the truth?! He’d better do something about this curse fast, before more irrational thoughts like that appeared. 

The window opened, and Beetlejuice flew back, more surprised than anything. A kid climbed out, looking distraught. Hilarious. 

“What do we have here?” Beetlejuice mumbled to himself, floating up behind the boy. He clutched a shaky, handwritten note. 

A suicide note. Beetlejuice quickly skimmed it, wondering if it was worth it to interfere. One line caught his eye. 

_I’m invisible, forsaken._

Beetlejuice scoffed, turning away. “That makes two of us, emo boy.” He glanced back towards the town, wondering if it was worth it to try and get some food. 

“Who are you?!”

Beetlejuice froze, realizing the boy was staring at him. He didn’t need a mirror to know his hair was green again. 

“You...can see me?!” Beetlejuice asked breathlessly, not daring to believe it. 

“Cool. There’s two dead people in my house, I guess.” The boy said miserably, but Beetlejuice didn’t care. 

“You can see me!” He squealed, somersaulting in the air. “I’M GONNA HAVE A NEW BEST FRIEND!” He cheered. 

Beetlejuice coughed, smoothing his hair back. He stopped floating, offering his hand to the boy. “And you are?”

“Miguel.” The boy said, taking a step back from Beetlejuice. 

“Mhm. And what might you be doing up here?” Beetlejuice asked, already knowing. 

Unfortunately, this seemed to remind Miguel why he was up here to begin with. “I’m gonna jump.” He said determinedly, turning to the edge of the roof. 

“NO!” Beetlejuice shrieked, freezing when Miguel jumped in surprise, nearly falling off anyway. “I mean, no.” He said, trying to disguise his panic. 

Alright, new plan. This kid could see him. He could say his name. But right now he needed to make sure he didn’t jump. That would put a huge damper on his plans. 

And it would also be super tragic but whatever. 

“How about, instead of killing yourself, you-and I’m just spitballing ideas here-say my name three times?” Beetlejuice offered. 

Miguel blinked. “And why would I do that?”

“It’s a whole thing. There’s a whole song I could sing, but I’m honestly not in the mood. But look. I’m a little something dead folks call a bio-exorcist. I get rid of living people.” Beetlejuice patted his pocket, but realized he had given the business card to Héctor. 

“Like, scare them away?” Miguel asked. 

“Yeah! I’m pretty good at it, if I do say so myself. I can help you help me. And you can help me help you help me!” He gave a thumbs up, but for some reason, Miguel didn’t look convinced. 

“So, what exactly is in it for me?” Miguel asked. 

Beetlejuice grinned. 

“I’m so glad you asked.”


	8. Say My Name

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> man i am on the inspiration high now. almost at the end of act one!
> 
> also was the beetlejuice macy's thanksgiving parade performance good or what

“You could use a buddy.” Beetlejuice grinned. “Don’t you want a pal?”

Beetlejuice held up his hand, and a little makeshift sock puppet of Miguel appeared on his hand. “Yes I do!” The Miguel sock puppet said. The real Miguel stepped back.

“How’d you end up here anyway?” Beetlejuice asked.

Miguel scowled. “My dad dragged me here.” 

“Well, that’s entirely unfair!” Beetlejuice shook his head sympathetically. “You should stick around, make this place your own, kill your dad-”

“What?!” Miguel yelped.

“Nothing.” Beetlejuice coughed. “But hey, killing yourself isn’t the best choice here. All that’ll end up happening is that you’ll be even more invisible than you already are.” 

Beetlejuice waved his hand, and the sock puppet disappeared. “You need someone to help you out? I’m right here, kid. Your own personal genie. All you gotta do is say my name.”

“I don’t know your name.” Miguel said. “What is it?”

“Well, I can’t say it.” Beetlejuice grumbled. 

“What? Why?” Miguel asked. 

“Eh, it’s a whole thing. I mean, if I could say it, what’s the point of summoning? Right? Defeats the whole purpose.” Beetlejuice said, floating off the ground, grinning.

“...how about you act it out? Charades?” Miguel asked.

“Yes!” Beetlejuice cheered. “Great idea!” He held up two fingers.

“Two words?” Miguel asked.

“Mhm.” Beetlejuice made a hissing noise, wriggling his fingers at his mouth like the legs of a bug.

“Snake?” Miguel asked, frowning when Beetlejuice shook his head. “Cat? Bug?”

“Close!” Beetlejuice cheered, making a buzzing noise and flapping his arms like wings.

“Bug? Fly? Beetle-” Miguel jumped when Beetlejuice cheered. 

“Yeah!” Beetlejuice held up two fingers again. 

“Second word.” Miguel said, watching Beetlejuice closely. Beetlejuice made a loud slurping noise, miming holding a drink.

“Drink? Beverage?” Miguel guessed.

“More specific.” Beetlejuice encouraged.

“Soda? Wine? Milk? Juice-” Miguel nearly fell off the roof at Beetlejuice’s whoop.

“YES!” He grinned, giving Miguel a thumbs up. 

“Beetlejuice? That’s your name?” Miguel asked incredulously. 

“Wow, I’m impressed. And all you gotta do is say it three times in a row, unbroken. Ready?” Beetlejuice 

Miguel paused, and nodded. “Okay, go!” Beetlejuice encouraged.

“Beetlejuice…” Miguel said slowly, watching the striped ghost grinned excitedly. “Beetlejuice…” He said again. “Bee…” He trailed off, looking suspicious.

Beetlejuice coughed, motioning for Miguel to continue.

Miguel glared. “Is this a scam?”

Beetlejuice growled, looking like he was barely keeping his temper under control. “No scam! Just say my name!”

“I’ll think about it.” Miguel decided.

“No no no no! No decisions! Just say it! Come on! We’re friends, right?!” Beetlejuice asked.

“I just met you. Any references?” Miguel asked.

As if on cue, the window opened again, and Dante tumbled out, nearly slipping off the roof. The dog barked at Beetlejuice, the latter, floating up so he was out of the canine’s reach. Héctor followed close behind, looking relieved when he saw Miguel. “_Dios mios!_ Miguel, are you alright?!” 

“Well, if it isn’t my old pal! How’s it hanging, Mariachi Man?” Beetlejuice asked cheerfully.

Héctor looked startled, then glared at Beetlejuice. “Get away from him!” The newer ghost turned to Miguel, looking nervous. “Miguel, this is a dangerously unstable man, he can’t be-”

“I take offense to that!” Beetlejuice said, and his eyes glowed a bright green. Héctor stiffened. 

“Beetlejuice is the perfect guy for a job like this!” He said in a mechanical voice. Miguel backed away, looking amazed. “Totally awesome, super sexy, give him ten stars on Yelp!”

Beetlejuice’s eyes stopped glowing, and Héctor slumped, looking disturbed. “What the hell was that?!” He gasped, looking startled.

“There you go, kid. A good five star review.” Beetlejuice grinned, jolting when Dante leapt for him, growling and barking. “Dogs…” He muttered, looking irritated.

“What was that?!” Miguel asked, dumbfounded, grabbing Dante before he could fall and impale himself. 

“Possession.” Beetlejuice grinned. “Easiest ghost trick. All that and more when you summon me-”

“Easiest ghost trick?” Miguel ventured. 

Beetlejuice blinked, irritated at being interrupted. “Yeah. Any ghost can do it. So?”

“So what do I need you for?” Miguel asked, a small grin in his voice.

Beetlejuice felt his hair go purple immediately. “Woah woah woah woah!” He waved his hands, frantic. “Come on, Miguel! Look at him!” He motioned to Héctor. “He’s sexy, yeah-” Beetlejuice ignored Héctor’s shout of protest. “-but you think he’s gonna scare everyone away?! Nuh uh! I’m a literal demon!”

“I think we’re done.” Miguel said.

“No no no!” Beetlejuice floated down close to Miguel, and Héctor tensed, ready to defend the younger boy. “Come on, kid! I know I went a little hard on the sell, but we’re best friends forever and ever-AUGH!” Dante lunged up, snapping at Beetlejuice’s leg, and catching the pant leg.

The dog swung his head, catching Beetlejuice by surprise, swinging him downwards towards the spikes. There was a thump, and a shriek-and Beetlejuice had disappeared.

Dante barked happily. 

“...I hope that man gets therapy. If there’s therapy for dead people.” Héctor muttered.

“You heard what he said.” Miguel said, sounding excited. “Any ghost can do it. You can possess someone!” 

Héctor grimaced. “I don’t...I don’t want to do that. It’s weird!”

“It’s the only way!” Miguel said. “We can do this! I know we can! But I need your help. Please, Héctor. I need you.” 

Héctor stared at the boy for a moment, very tempted to refuse. He realized in that moment that if Miguel left, he would be alone again. And the odds of someone seeing him again were slim to none.

But he couldn’t abandon Miguel now.

“What’s the plan?” He asked, trying to keep his voice light.

Miguel grinned, looking almost devilish.

“Teach dad a lesson.”


	9. Day-O (The Banana Boat Song)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me: i'm killing this book  
me, literally less than 24 hours later: so that was a fucking lie-
> 
> truth time: i was going to rewrite this as marvel because i knew it would get more views. luckily, i was visited in my nightmares my the three spirits of writing that showed me what would happen if i sell out to shit like that
> 
> I DO NOT WRITE FOR VIEWS. I WRITE BECAUSE I WANT PEOPLE TO ENJOY MY CONTENT AND I WANT TO HAVE FUN DOING THIS, NOT BECAUSE I WANT TO BE FAMOUS OR SOME SHIT
> 
> this fandom is tiny but close, and honestly, fuck me for forgetting that.
> 
> that being said, someone asked to take this story. and to them, sis, continue to use this idea. if you wanna write a oneshot, an au to this au, or even rewrite it to your style and ideas, do it! i wanna see what ideas other people have! 
> 
> also i have a strong theory for the real reason why beetlejuice is getting evicted from the winter garden but that's a story for next time.
> 
> anyway, here's the chapter you've all been waiting for

Shrimp always freaked Héctor out. 

All seafood did, actually. Besides the unpleasant taste, it was usually sold in one piece, almost completely unchanged from when it died. Héctor never understood that. Nothing was more unappetizing than seeing your food look you in the eye before you ate it. Imelda joked that Héctor would never survive in an apocalypse if he had to hunt his own food, and he wholeheartedly agreed. 

Also, shrimp tasted gross.

Miguel seemed to agree, picking at his shrimp martini. (Héctor could only assume it was non-alcoholic, which was sort of a lose-lose situation. Shrimp certainly made Héctor want to drink to forget) He had a barely concealed excited grin, and kept glancing over at Héctor, who was standing in the corner, entirely unsure of his next move. 

Beetlejuice had said possession was easy, but Héctor had a suspicion it was easy in the way driving was-you couldn’t just get up and do it. You needed to be taught at least once, or pick things up from watching others. And Héctor had only seen it done once, and had been too busy being, well, possessed to study what to do.

“So, Maxie,” Charles said, sounding a bit nervous himself. “We’ve talked a bit about our plans for the community, right?” 

The other man at the table-Maxie-made a grumpy huff, and Charles fell silent.

Ah, that was right. Miguel had explained it. Tonight, Charles was having an investor named Maxie Dean over, to try and convince him to invest in some sort of gated community. Miguel said it sounded stupid, and Héctor couldn’t argue with that.

No one seemed to be having any fun. It was probably the worst party Héctor had ever seen. Everyone looked miserable, and Delia looked uncomfortable, probably wishing she had left after last night’s incident.

_Good thing I never got famous,_ Héctor thought morbidly. _Otherwise I might be subjected to this. _

A seedling of an idea suddenly began to form in his mind, which quickly grew. It was like an internal word association game. Fame...music...HIS music...an idea to possess that wouldn’t hurt anyone, maybe just freak them out. 

“Well!” Delia said, looking desperate to break the tension. Miguel instantly scowled. Delia pretended not to see. “As a...supporter of Charles, I’m sure we can all agree that this is an ambitious project, right?”

No one spoke.

Héctor concentrated on Delia, imagining that he was her, standing in her place, in control and ready to put on a show.

“Let me just say…” Delia trailed off, a look of blank confusion over her face. 

Héctor was in control.

_“Day-o!”_ Delia sang, and blinked, looking extremely confused. Héctor himself was so surprised that he dropped control, stumbling back.

Charles laughed nervously. “Delia, what was that?”

Delia brushed herself off, looking a bit nervous. “I-I’m sorry, I don’t-_me say day-o!”_

Everyone blinked, looking equally shocked, and Miguel ducked down to hide his smile.

It was just a goofy song he and Coco had written together. Coco had always thought the lyrics were funny, and for some reason, it was the first song that came to Héctor’s head. All the same, he felt the growing ache in his chest.

But he had to focus. He had a job to do.

Charles looked like he was about to have a nervous breakdown. “Delia, what-_daylight come and me wan’ go home!” _

Héctor concentrated, and Delia and Charles stood up together slowly, both looking incredibly confused, even as they sang. 

_“Work all night on a drink of rum! Daylight come, and me wan’ go home. Stack banana til’ the morning come. Daylight come and me wan’ go home!” _

This time, Héctor glared at the fussy Maxie Dean and his equally fussy looking wife. They should loosen up.

To his whims, the other couple stood up, looking just as shocked that they were suddenly part of the dinner theatre as well. 

_“Come, Mister Tally Man, tally me banana. Daylight come, and me wan’ go home! Come Mister Tally Man, tally me banana. Daylight come, and me wan’ go home!” _

The four adults moved in jerky, awkward dancing that made them look like marionettes controlled by a very bad puppetmaster. 

_“It’s six foot, seven foot, eight foot bunch! Daylight come, and me wan’ go home! It’s six foot, seven foot, eight foot bunch! Daylight come, and me wan’ go home!”_

Héctor caught sight of the shrimp, the long, orange bodies curving out of the glass like...fingers…

_“A beautiful bunch of ripe banana! Daylight come, and me wan’ go home! Hide the deadly black tarantula! Daylight come, and me wan’ go home!”_

Héctor forced the unwilling flash mob back into their seats, only to reach out, manipulating the shrimp. They curved, emitting a horrid shrieking noise as the shrimp curved into odd, disfigured hands, reaching up for the guests, who shrieked in turn and jumped back, only to be thrown right back into the dancing and singing.

_“Day-o, day-o! Daylight come, and me wan’ go home! Day, me say day, me say day, me say day. Me say day, me say day-o. Daylight come, and me wan’ go home!”_

“Miguel, call 911!” Charles managed to gasp out, still dancing. He paused, seeing his son laughing at the scene. “What...why aren’t you dancing?”

“I told you, dad!” Miguel said. “There’s a ghost here, and he wants you out!”

Charles looked horrified, turning to Maxie Dean. “Maxie, I am so sorry-”

“Are you kidding?!” Maxie said, and Héctor realized with a sinking stomach the investor was smiling. “This is amazing! I was never going to invest in your stupid gated community, but a genuine haunted house?! We’ll make millions!”

Charles broke out in a grin as well, turning to Miguel. “Did you hear that?! We’re gonna be rich!”

“No!” Miguel cried, but nobody paid him any attention.

Héctor dropped control entirely, but the adults seemed just as lively. “Miguel, I’m so sorry, I did my best-” He started, but Miguel turned away.

“There’s only one thing left to do.” Miguel said, almost talking to himself.

Héctor felt his stomach drop. “Him?! Miguel, no, you don’t know what’ll happen-”

“I can’t keep living like this!” Miguel yelled, hysterical. “Beetlejuice!”

“Oh boy oh boy oh boy!” A raspy voice said, and Héctor jumped backwards, seeing the titular striped man scramble up as if coming out of a trapdoor. Was he hiding under the floor? “I’m so glad you changed your mind!” The demon said gleefully.

“Beetlejuice!” Miguel said again, staring the demon down, almost challenging him. Beetlejuice took it in stride, smile only growing.

“You and I are gonna make such a great team! Now give me just one more…” He coaxed.

“Miguel-” Héctor said desperately, but it was too late.

“BEETLEJUICE!”

Héctor expected an explosion, shouting, but what happened instead was oddly chilling. The air hummed with new, chaotic energy that made Héctor’s hair stand on edge. The lights dimmed, seeming to shine a sickly spotlight on Beetlejuice. The demon went still, the first time Héctor had seen him still. A shark-like grin spread across his face.

“It’s showtime.” Beetlejuice said, voice quiet and low.

And then all hell broke loose.

END OF ACT I


	10. Intermission

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a short lil chapter to check up on our living friends before we get back to our regularly scheduled hauntings

The album had topped the charts in less than three months.

Honestly, if Ernesto had known it was going to be that much of a success, he would have pulled a stunt like this years ago.

Already, Ernesto was reaping the influence that came with being a star. He was friends with celebrities. Women (and men, but they were generally blocked) were constantly messaging him. And the money…!  
Finally, he was being noticed, accepted, and wanted. Finally he was getting the recognition he deserved.

The few loose ends he had were taken up nicely. Imelda tried to call him, and he simply blocked her number, and skipped town.

In a way distant sense, he was surprised he could easily soothe his guilt over the whole Héctor incident. Ernesto sort of expected it to haunt him, maybe his big celebrity secret until his deathbed. But he was logical, he supposed, and simply told himself that while it was a shame such a nice person had to die, the dead weight had to leave all the same, and after all, look where he was now?

_Yeah, okay,_ his conscience said, and then promptly shut up. 

Ernesto wasn’t complaining.

*** *** ***  
Imelda’s eyes burned, and her hands shook, fueled by nothing but caffeine and spite.

She had gone over the budget for the week once, twice, and then still couldn’t find any room to fit in a trip to that new ice cream store that opened up, and Coco wanted so badly to go to.

It wasn’t fair. One minute she was living her dream-a loving husband and daughter, prepared to make the next big, scary step of buying a house-and then it was gone, ripped away by an unknown cruel force.

Well, not unknown, but certainly cruel.

It had been six months since…_he_ left her, and there hadn’t been any time to mourn. She had mouths to feed, and after a month, after one horrible night where she had to cover her mouth so Coco didn’t hear her wailing, she realized she was alone now.

And Coco...God, Coco. She still didn’t quite understand, nervously cheerful about when Papá was coming back. She deserved to have some sweet, even if it was temporary.

The worst part was that Imelda knew she wouldn’t complain.

Imelda went through the list again, praying to some unknown power that somehow, someway, she could make this work.

But spite only ran for so long, and she awoke the next morning to Coco sitting on her lap, hugging her.


	11. Girl Scout

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> listening to this song for the first time is like watching a character in a horror movie walk to the room where the killer is

ACT II

Sky hoisted her backpack higher on her shoulder, aware that she probably should have used the wagon. 

Almost at the same time, she scolded herself for negative thoughts. This is a huge day! A milestone of epic proportions. Here she was, outside and wandering by herself, no parents or adult chaperones in sight!

Since she first became a Girl Scout when she was barely a toddler, she had begged her family to let her do the activities independently. At first it was an obvious no, as five year olds are quite stupid and tend to get themselves in trouble when they aren’t watched at all times. Then it became a bit more personal.

Sky supposed she couldn’t really get too mad about it. All the same, it stung when the rest of her troop was out doing ropes courses, or haunted houses, or anything that wasn’t cut and dry just because Sky’s heart had decided to be more unpredictable than a Las Vegas slot machine.

After years of begging, pleading, and cajoling, Sky’s parents finally agreed to let her sell cookies on her own. 

There were stringent rules, of course. She had to answer their calls, not wander outside the approved radius, and of course come straight home if she felt sick. All the same, Sky figured it was a step forward after being locked in cement for years. 

She adjusted her sash, and walked up to her first house, unsure why she was nervous. The worst that could happen was they said no. But failure freaked her out all the more. Her first house, the precedent, would say no, they didn’t want cookies, and that would mean the rest of her mission was doomed.

She rang the doorbell, and rocked back and forth on her feet nervously.

After a moment, the door opened, and a boy in a red jacket about her age looked out.

“Hi!” Sky said, hoping her voice didn’t betray her nervousness. “My name is Sky. And I’m here to see if you’d like some cookies to support the Girl Scouts!” 

There was a beat of silence, and Sky could feel her heart hammering. Wouldn’t that just be great, she’d drop dead at the first house after giving her pitch. That certainly wouldn’t convince anyone to buy cookies. 

“Sure.” The boy said.

“Really?!” Sky squeaked, Doomsday scenarios leaving her head as quickly as they had arrived.

“Yeah, what flavors do you have?” The boy asked.

Sky swung off her backpack, rifling through the boxes. “Well, I have the classics-Samoas, Thin Mints, and the shortbread ones-but I also have key lime and one that tastes like apple pie!” She held up the said apple pie one, presenting it like a prize.

“Why don’t you come inside?” The boy asked.

Sky paused, suddenly nervous. “Well, uh, we’re really not supposed to.”

The boy tilted his head. “Why?” 

“Pedophiles.” Sky said bluntly. 

The boy frowned, looking back into the house. Sky panicked, realizing she was losing him. She glanced at the boy, weighed her options, and decided that she could totally take him out if he tried something, arrhythmia or not.

“I mean…” She stuttered out, resolving to never tell her parents about this. “I guess I’ll come in.”

The boy grinned, opening the door wider, and Sky stepped in, instantly feeling her heart start to race again. She laughed nervously. “Sure is dark in here!”

“Really? I hadn’t noticed.” The boy said.

That wasn’t the only thing he seemed to have failed to notice. The house itself seemed different on the inside, with the walls curving, striped wallpaper curving in dizzying formations like one of those old-timey hypnotism spinning wheel things. The furniture was striped too, with strange spikes sticking out of it like teeth. The house itself almost seemed...alive. 

No no, not alive, more like...it was aware of Sky, and still deciding what to make of her.

Somehow this was worse.

“U-uh, maybe I can come back when your parents are here?” Sky asked. There was no one else, leading Sky to believe the boy was alone. This should have made her feel better, as that meant she hadn’t been baited inside, but for some reason, her heart only beat faster.

There was a loud _pop_ from her right, and Sky whirled around.

A man stood there-not a human man, definitely, but a man. He wore a black and white striped suit, matching the rest of the house. His hair was bright green, and his skin sallow and pale. Green blotches colored his face like mold.

He grinned at Sky, showing off his yellow teeth.

“Boo.”


	12. That Beautiful Sound

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter was so fun to write. enjoy it, because next chapter shit gets real

Beetlejuice cackled, rolling in the air. “Oh my God/Satan, that was the best one yet!” He wiped his eyes. “See? Didn’t I make good on my word?”

Miguel couldn’t resist a smile. “Yeah. I guess.”

“You guess?!” Beetlejuice said in mock offense. “I blew up the lights! I chased that hippie out with her own shitty art! I turned giant! I don’t pull out that funhouse trick for just anyone, kid.”

Miguel shrugged. “I guess.” He grinned wider. “Scaring people is pretty fun. I might be a bio-exorcist when I die.” 

“Now we’re talking! I’m picturing a partnership thing here, I’ll come up with a catchy name for it or something.” Beetlejuice landed, and paused. “Hey, you know what would make this party even better?”

“What?” Miguel asked.

“More me!” Beetlejuice flicked out his hand, and someone popped up from behind the couch. “A proper haunted house needs more than just one star role, right?”

More people popped up, and Miguel realized they were clones of Beetlejuice, but not identical. They all looked slightly different. One was tall and skinny. One had darker skin. One of them-and this made no sense to Miguel-was even female. 

But they all had the same suit, same green hair, and same grin that screamed mischief and chaos. 

The clones cheered, scattering over the house and causing a variety of wreckage. “How did you do that?!” Miguel asked, rushing over to inspect a clone who was struggling. He had appeared from under the couch, and seemed to be stuck.

“Oy, ya gonna look or give me a hand?!” The clone said, for some reason sporting a strong cockney accent.

Beetlejuice flicked his hand, and the couch moved aside, allowing the clone to scramble out and join his friends. “Little trick I learned.” Beetlejuice said proudly. “It’s good for those times when you’re existentially lonely and hit with the realization that no one cares about you.” 

A few of the clones glanced at Beetlejuice, who chuckled nervously. “Ah shit, oversharing again.” He clapped his hands. “Anyway, back to the fun!” 

The doorbell rang, and Beetlejuice grinned, bowing sarcastically to Miguel. “Be my guest.” He said.

Miguel rushed to the door, opening it, seeing a guy with a clipboard. “Hello, I’m with the U.S census, I-AH!” He jumped back, seeing Beetlejuice standing behind Miguel, and countless clones staring ominously from behind Beetlejuice.

“Hi.” Beetlejuice said.

“Er, how many people live here?” The census man asked nervously.

“Just me.” Miguel said, barely able to keep himself from bursting out laughing. 

“Oh.” The man looked at Beetlejuice. “And you?”

“I don’t live here.” Beetlejuice said. His eyes turned white, and thick black goo dripped from his mouth. He cracked his neck to the side. “I’m dead.”

The census man screamed in falsetto, sprinting away.

Miguel burst into laughter, slamming the door shut. “Did you see his face?!”

Beetlejuice spun his head around, seeming to screw it back on. “Christ on a stick, I can’t believe he flipped out at a lame creepypasta stunt!” 

The doorbell rang again, and Beetlejuice grinned, rushing to open it up. “Oh, good! Pizza’s here!” 

The Domino’s delivery guy didn’t look all too perturbed by Beetlejuice’s odd appearance, but he worked in customer service. He had probably seen scarier things. He glanced at the receipt. “Pizza for...Bet-el-goose?” 

“Close enough.” Beetlejuice grabbed the box. “Hey, kid, can you spot me some cash?”

Miguel reached into his pocket, a bit irritated now. He had a twenty, but he was almost certain that Beetlejuice wouldn’t pay him back. 

“What’d you order?” Miguel asked, handing the delivery guy the bill.

“Pepperoni and snakes.” Beetlejuice answered.

“Snakes?” The delivery guy asked. A large rattlesnake suddenly appeared on his shoulders, fangs bared and hissing. 

“AAH!” The delivery guy sprinted away, still clutching the money.

Beetlejuice slammed the door, cackling. “Oh, that was a good one! It’s all about the set up. Hey guys!” He yelled to the clones. “Pizza’s on Miguel!” 

The clones cheered, descending on the pizza like ravenous beasts. “Does this count as you eating it?” Miguel asked.

Beetlejuice shrugged. “I have literally no idea.”

The doorbell rang once again. “Woah, lots of people coming here today.” Beetlejuice muttered, looking surprised. One of the clones laughed, and was shushed by all the others.

“Hey, you.” Beetlejuice pointed to one of the clones, motioning for him to come up. The clone rushed up, and Miguel opened the door. An Amazon delivery person stood there, looking a bit more put off than the pizza guy had.

“U-uh, package?” He offered weakly. 

Beetlejuice’s eyes lit up, and he grabbed the clone’s right arm, staring at Miguel excitedly. “Did you know delivery costs extra if you don’t have Amazon Prime?”

Miguel knew in an instant what the punchline, and grabbed the clone’s other arm. “What a rip off!” He cried, and yanked the clone’s arm as hard as he could. Beetlejuice did the same, and with a ripping noise and dramatic scream, the clone’s arms came off. 

The delivery man screamed as well, dropping the package, still wailing in horror when the door slammed. 

“Oh, that was the best one yet! Kid, we’re totally vibing right now!” Beetlejuice wiped away a tear of laughter with the severed arm. “Nothing in the universe is anywhere near as beautiful as a scream of terror.” 

“Hey, boss.” One of the clones spoke up, looking like they remembered something. “The book!”

Beetlejuice scowled, glaring at the clone. “Alright, #9, I guess we know who the party pooper is.” 

The clone looked embarrassed.

“What book?” Miguel asked. 

Beetlejuice sighed. “Well, since you’re working with the dead, you gotta know the rules of the dead. I present-” He held up a small book he seemed to have conjured from nowhere. “The Handbook for the Recently Deceased.” 

Miguel took the book, flipping it over. 

_Welcome to the first day of the rest of your afterlife!_

_This comprehensive guide covers everything from spells to sandworms, and everything in between! Once you’ve finished reading, you’ll be ready to take on the worlds!_

“What’s a sandworm?” Miguel asked.

The clones chattered nervously. “You kind of have to see one to understand.” Beetlejuice said, and the door flung open. Only this time, instead of outside, there was a vast, yellow desert-

Miguel jumped back as a huge, striped snake with red eyes stuck his head in the house. The snake opened its mouth, and instead of a throat, another head came out of its mouth, beady yellow eyes staring at Miguel with hunger.

The clones screamed and scattered, and even Beetlejuice looked startled. “That’s a bold one!” He yelped, waving his hands. The sandworm roared in fury when it was yanked back into the desert, and the door slammed shut.

“That’s a little one.” Beetlejuice said.

“Little?!” Miguel gasped.

“Sandworms eat spirits like me. I don’t think they’d be against eating a breather, though, so take my advice: don’t go into the desert unless you wanna be a snack.” Beetlejuice shivered. “Sandworms-you know I hate ‘em.”

Miguel glanced at the book again, and froze. Spells…

“What kind of spells are in here?” Miguel asked.

Beetlejuice shrugged. “Not anything interesting. Exorcisms, seances, summoning-”

“Summoning? Can you summon any dead person?” Miguel asked excitedly.

“Yeah. Why?” Beetlejuice asked, watching Miguel try to open the book. 

“I can see my mom!” Miguel said.

Beetlejuice glanced at him sideways. “Why would you want that? I wouldn’t. My mom’s a literal demon.” He scowled, and the clones sighed, as if they had heard this spiel before.

“She always has this massive flask with her and downs it like nothing. So then I’m like, mom, stop drinking. And she’s all like no! And I’m like mom, it’s me or the booze.” Beetlejuice was rambling now. “And then she said well in that case, I choose the booze!”

The clones chattered nervously, looking distinctly uncomfortable. Beetlejuice blinked, as if just realizing what he had said. “Shit. Oversharing. Anyway, the point is, it’s a waste of time if you ask me.”

Miguel decided he wasn’t qualified enough to crack into that particular emotional trauma. “Why can’t I open the book?”

“Breathers can’t open it. A dead person would have to open it for them. And I’m not gonna help you open it unless it’s to do something fun like prank call the help desk.” Beetlejuice crossed his arms.

Miguel scowled, going over to the staircase. “Fine. I’ll look for Héctor. He’ll help me.” He started up the steps.

“What?!” Beetlejuice looked shocked. “You’re leaving already? I thought we were pals!”

“What are you talking about? I’m gonna find my mom.” Miguel didn’t turn to see Beetlejuice’s entire outfit and hair turn a deep violet, along with the other clones.

There was silence in the house for the first time in a long while.

“...can you believe that?” Beetlejuice asked the clones hoarsely. The clones gathered, looking unsure of what was coming. “I do all that for him, and he just…!” Beetlejuice threw his arms up. “Alone again.”

The clones muttered sympathetically. 

“You know,” Beetlejuice said, musing to himself. “This almost feels like one of those psychological tortures. Like, here I am, having a ball. But can I leave the house and be seen? Interact with more breathers? Nope.”

Beetlejuice paced. “This shit’s unfair. I didn’t want to be born dead! It’s not fair! I didn’t ask for this!” Beetlejuice spun around for his audience dramatically. “I want to be alive!”

The clones muttered amongst themselves. “But...that’s impossible.” A clone said hesitantly.

Beetlejuice nodded sadly. “Yeah, I know but-” He paused, the violet shade starting to fade slightly. “But...there is one way...that’s it!” He grinned at the clones, who looked hopefully. “The Contract Clause! If I can get Miguel to marry me, I’ll be alive!”

The clones went dead silent, staring at Beetlejuice. One slowly raised his hand.

“Yes, you. Handsome one in the right corner.” Beetlejuice pointed at the hand raiser.

“Um, boss, no offense but...ah...what the fuck?” He said hesitantly, and the clones rumbled in agreement. 

“Oh, well...it’s not real. It’s just in writing. It’s...like a green card.” Beetlejuice rationalized.

“Oh.” The clone lowered his hand. 

“All we need now is a plan. Any ideas? I’m down for anything.” Beetlejuice motioned to the clones, who immediately started shouting.

“Threaten to eat his dog!”

“Take him out to dinner!”

“Hang him upside down over boiling oil!”

“Is there anymore pizza?!”

“Woah woah!” Beetlejuice held up a hand for silence. “Guys, these are all great ideas, but it has to be voluntary. We can’t just bust in like we usually do. We gotta be sneaky.”

“I like sneaky.” One clone said.

“Now, any other ideas?” Beetlejuice asked.

Before the clones could speak, the door burst open, and Delia, Charles, and a baby-faced man with a box that Beetlejuice didn’t recognize ran in like they were a SWAT team.

Charles waved a silver crucifix. “Where’s my son, hellspawn?!” He yelled, throwing the crucifix at Beetlejuice. It missed by a good six feet, and Beetlejuice watched it go by and fall on the ground with a clatter.

“Damn, you have bad aim.” Beetlejuice said. “Like, you aren’t even far from me, there’s no excuse for that.”

Beetlejuice made a fist, and the crucifix melted and reshaped itself into a hand flipping the bird. “And anyway, the idea of a crucifix is horribly outdated. Kinda rude of you to assume I’m Catholic, actually.”

“Where’s Miguel?!” Delia demanded. “We have a ghost trap, and we’re not afraid to use it! Don’t play games with us!”

“Games?” Beetlejuice asked, and grinned. The clones cackled, and disappeared. “That gives me a brilliant idea. You want a game? I’ll give you a game.”


	13. Barbara 2.0

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> uh oh miguel says a no no word

Héctor vowed that when Miguel came back he was going to give that kid such a talking to. 

But of course, that went out the window when Miguel burst in. 

_”Dios mios!_ Miguel, are you alright?!” Héctor asked, standing up quickly. Dante, also having been locked in the attic, ran up to Miguel, barking excitedly.

“I’m fine! I need your help!” Miguel said, and Héctor scowled, but couldn’t bring himself to curb Miguel’s enthusiasm. 

“I have this book-” Miguel held up a book. “But I can’t open it because I’m alive.”

Héctor squinted, reading the title. “The Handbook for the Recently Deceased?” He paused, confused. “I’m recently deceased. Where did you get that book?” 

“Beetlejuice gave it to me. He said if I’m gonna work with the dead, I need to follow the rules. There’s spells in here, spells that can bring back my mom!” Miguel said excitedly.

Héctor grimaced. “Aren’t there several pieces of media explaining why it’s a bad idea to bring back the dead?”

“Please? Just open it. I won’t say the spell, I just want to see it.” Miguel made puppy dog eyes. Héctor sighed, snatching the book and grumbling. Slowly, he opened it up, and a soft yellow light emitted from the book.

“Woah.” Miguel said. He squinted, looking at the words. “All souls should proceed directly to the Netherworld? What’s the Netherworld?”

Héctor’s eyes widened. “Beetlejuice said something about that! He was a...taxi driver. He was a taxi driver.” He trailed off, glancing at Miguel.

Miguel raised his eyebrows. “He doesn’t seem like a taxi driver.”

“Well, he is.” Héctor retorted. He looked back to the book again, reading. “These instructions are horrible…”

One paragraph caught Miguel’s eye. “In case of emergency, draw a door and knock three times.” He looked at Héctor. “Do you have something to draw with?” 

“There’s chalk over there, but-” Miguel didn’t listen to the rest of it, grabbing the chalk and drawing the door on the attic brick wall. Dante tried to eat the rest of the chalk, the white powder smearing on his nose, making him look like a crackhead.

“Can you knock? I think you have to do it.” Miguel said.

Héctor sighed, but figured it was worth a try. Dread running through him, he knocked on the chalk door three times. There was a low hum, and the door shimmered, turning wooden. It swung open, revealing green smoke spilling out of the doorway. Miguel stepped forward.

_”No gracias!”_ Héctor decided in a panic, grabbing Miguel and pulling him away. He slammed the door shut, and it disappeared back into a chalk drawing. Dante barked, almost frantic. 

“Hey!” Miguel wrenched his arm away from Héctor, racing up to the chalk door. “No no no!” He knocked, but nothing happened. He turned to Héctor, close to tears. “Why did you do that?!” 

“We don’t know what’s there! It could be monsters, or zombies-” Héctor said, nervous, but Miguel cut him off.

“My mom could be there! And you won’t help me find her!” Miguel yelled.

Now it was Héctor’s turn to be upset. “Excuse me if I don’t want you to go to the literal land of the dead! By the way, you’re welcome for the possession.” 

“It was a De La Cruz song! No one would be scared by that!” Miguel snapped back, and this time Héctor didn’t respond.

_De La Cruz?_

“If you won’t help me, I’ll find someone who will!” Miguel stomped off, but this time, Héctor didn’t attempt to stop him. 

_De La Cruz?!_

How was this possible? Well, he knew how it was possible. He didn’t want to think it was possible, but it was the only explanation. Ernesto had taken the Banana Boat song and passed it off as his own.

If he did it with one song, who’s to say he didn’t do it with the others?

It wasn’t so much the fact he had no credit that hurt him-honestly, if Ernesto asked him, it would have probably only taken a little cajoling to get Héctor to give him the rights to less personal songs. It was more so that he suddenly realized he had no sense of what had happened since he died. How much time had passed? It had to have been more than an hour; Héctor knew enough about record deals to know that it took awhile for one to be completed. Had it been a month? Two months? Years?

All this time, he had been sitting uselessly in this house, and the house had been taken over by a smelly, overgrown child. 

How much had he missed with Coco and Imelda?

Beetlejuice had claimed he could get in touch with them, but Héctor was determined not to accept any sort of help from that demon, even if Beetlejuice could resurrect him. He was going to fix his own problems now. 

No more hiding in the attic, hoping things would get better. He was dead, buried six feet underground, and it was about damn time he took control of his own afterlife. No one else was going to do it for him. 

Héctor rushing down to the main room, filled with purpose, barely noticing when the doors swung open for him.

He stood over the balcony, and froze. 

_”Que demonios?!”_

*** *** ***  
“Welcome back to another exciting episode of Life or Death! Oh, hey Miguel.” Beetlejuice waved, looking cheerful

Miguel blinked, taking in the scene. There were two podium, with Charles and Delia at each of them, like a gameshow. In the corner, there was a small set of benches, large skeletons cheering for the show, looking excited. Most ridiculously of all, there was a massive wheel in the center like in Wheel of Fortune, with each bit of the wheel labeled as either LIFE or DEATH. Otho was stuck to the wheel, looking miserable.

“What-” Miguel said.

“Like it? I think it’s cool. And a good comeuppance. This guy tried to trap me in a box.” Beetlejuice motioned to Otho, who whimpered.

“G-get away from me!” The guru cried. Beetlejuice rolled his eyes.

“How much money did you spend on this stupid looking box? I hope not too much, that’d be embarrassing.” Beetlejuice chuckled.

“It’s not fake! Don’t worry, Otho, we’ll get you out!” Delia smiled brilliantly at Otho.

“Dammit, Delia, can’t you see?! I’m a fraud! I made that box myself! My real name isn’t even Otho! It’s Kevin!” Otho blurted out.

Delia blinked, but Miguel couldn’t muster up enough energy to even act surprised. Beetlejuice laughed, and the skeletons cheered, finding this quite entertaining.

“Well, honestly, I’m getting sick of you.” Beetlejuice reached forward, grabbing a lever that Miguel hadn’t seen before. He pulled it back, and the wheel started spinning. Otho-Kevin’s-high pitched scream echoed and echoed...until he, along with the wheel was gone.

“W-where did he go?!” Charles asked.

Beetlejuice shrugged. “Beats me. Oh, hey, Mariachi Man!” He waved to Héctor, who rushed down.

“Get out!” Héctor shrieked, completely done with the demon’s antics.

Even Beetlejuice looked a bit surprised by the sudden bravado. “Yeesh, no need to be rude. Hey, Miguel.” He turned to the younger boy. “Page three hundred and sixty three. Seance.”

Miguel’s eyes widened. “Really?!”

Beetlejuice nodded. “Yeah! Just think about who you want to summon when you say it.”

Miguel frantically flipped through the book, completely ignoring everything else. “Miguel! Are you okay?!” Charles asked, but Miguel ignored him.

Héctor stared at Beetlejuice, watching the demon sort of back into the shadows, a grin on his face. His sharp teeth looked like a shark’s, and he looked downright devious, staring at Miguel as though he couldn’t wait to see what would transpire. 

Too late, Héctor realized what was happening.

Miguel was already reading. 

_”Umbra,  
Mitto ego te ad vacui pro bono  
Et non revertetur  
Non est tibi  
Sal exorcizatum in aeternum!”_

There was a long silence, and Miguel frowned, opening his mouth to repeat the spell.

There was a flash of blue-green light, and a wail. Miguel whirled around, seeing Héctor floating limply in the air, eyes blank and glowing. An evil green mist curled around him, as if discouraging anyone from helping. 

“No!” Miguel yelped, having no idea what was happening but knowing it wasn’t good. He rushed up to grab Héctor, but Charles grabbed Miguel’s arm and pulled him back. 

“No no! Let go! What’s happening?!” Miguel panicked. 

“Exorcism.” A smug voice said. “Death for the dead!”

Beetlejuice reappeared, and for some reason, his hair was bright scarlet, and his suit shared the same hue. It reminded Miguel chillingly of blood.

“Hey guys! Awesome seance!” He cackled, but there was no real excitement to it. It sounded forced and bitter. “I may have made a mistake with which page had the correct spell. In your faces!” 

“You tricked me!” Miguel cried, enraged. 

“Classic bait and switch. It’s your own fault for falling for it. Maybe if you weren’t so focused on finding your stupid mom you’d be able to read the page header!” Beetlejuice pointed the the bolded word EXORCISMS printed at the top of the page.

“So now our buddy is gonna have his essence split and scattered across the world, maybe he’ll become Sandworm seasoning. Who knows?” Beetlejuice said bitterly, looking to the rapidly deteriorating Héctor, who now resembled a zombie. 

“Change him back!” Miguel yelled.

“Oh no, you aren’t calling the shots anymore kid. I am! And I’ve got a little price on making sure our buddy isn’t thrown into nonexistence.” Beetlejuice spread his arms grandly. “I need you to marry me!”

The silence that followed made Beetlejuice scowl and turn a darker scarlet.

“It’s a green card thing!” He yelled. 

“No! Fix it! I didn’t mean to-” Miguel started, but Beetlejuice turned, looking mad.

“No no, shut up! This is the part where you listen! You did this!” He pointed. “You have two choices! You messed with the wrong book, now look what you’ve done! So what’s it gonna be?!”

Miguel glanced to Héctor, heart pounding. The man was completely skeletal now, and it was far more unnerving than it was before. “Okay.” He gasped out. “I’ll marry you.”

Charles and Delia started shouting in protest, and Beetlejuice blinked. “Wait, really?”

“What choice do I have?!” Miguel demanded, trying to not cry. 

“Uh, I dunno, just didn’t think you’d actually do it.” He grinned, red color going back to a vibrant green. “I’m getting married! Awesome!”

“Save Héctor!” Miguel begged.

“Oh, right.” He waved his hand, and Héctor dropped to the ground and gasped.

“Great news, Héctor! Miguel here agreed to marry me!” Beetlejuice said with a grin.

“WHAT?!” Héctor looked horrified.

The demon wrinkled his brow. “Woah, homophobia? Not cool, dude, it’s the twenty first century!”

“THAT’S NOT THE ISSUE AND YOU DAMN WELL KNOW IT!” Héctor nearly screamed.

Beetlejuice smoothed his hair back. “Well, if you’re gonna be like that, you’re not invited. You’ve been away from the Netherworld too long, Mariachi Man. Time for you to get through the system” The front door flew open, not showing the outside world, but a black void with a green hue, mist swirling in the doorframe.

“Adios!” Beetlejuice shouted, and Héctor yelped as what seemed to be a huge gust of wind swept him off his feet, yanking him towards the door.

“Wait! Can’t I say goodbye?!” Miguel said desperately. 

Beetlejuice growled, and the wind sucking Héctor away stopped, and he fell to the ground with a yelp. “Fine, make it quick! I gotta figure out if I should take a shower for this event...probably not…”

Miguel rushed to Héctor, nearly knocking the man over with a hug. “Miguel, you-” Héctor started desperately, but Miguel interrupted him.

“Don’t worry, I have a plan.” Miguel said, and turned to the happy looking demon. “Hey, Beetlejuice!”

Beetlejuice turned.

“I’m going to the Netherworld!” Miguel sprinted to the doorway.

“WHAT?!” Beetlejuice asked shrilly.

“Classic bait and switch!” Miguel flipped Beetlejuice off. “Bastard!”

“This is a horrible plan!” Héctor protested.

Miguel ignored him, leaping through the threshold to the Netherworld. “No!” Charles cried, following closely behind. Delia shouted something, but it was too late. There was a noise like crashing thunder, and the door to the Netherworld slammed shut.

“Why does everyone keep leaving me?!” Beetlejuice wailed, sounding truly miserable, his color suddenly purple.

Héctor had little sympathy. “Why do you think, _gilipollas mentiroso_?!”

Beetlejuice scowled, smoothing his hair back again, only now it turned red again.

“Okay, new plan.” He decided.

“I’ll just kill everyone.”


	14. What I Know Now

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> its been a while, boys

Everything around him was pitch black, but not dark. 

Miguel looked around, able to see his hands, shoes and clothing easily, but everything around him was black, as though someone had sucked the color away as opposed to turning off a light.

“Mamá?” He called, voice echoing endlessly.

He received no answer. 

“Miguel!” Miguel jumped when he heard his name called, and stepped back when he saw a very bedraggled Charles, hair that was always so gelled back hanging limp, shirt that was always so clean pressed rumpled and stained. For a second, Miguel didn’t even recognize his father.

“Dad?” Miguel asked, shocked. His dad panted, coming to a stop in front of Miguel.

“What were you thinking?! This is literally hell!” Charles gasped.

Miguel made a face. “It’s the Netherworld, actually.” 

“What difference does that make?! We’re going home, right now!” Charles yelled.

“I’m afraid that’s not possible, sir.” A woman’s voice said.

Miguel and Charles whirled around, and suddenly they were no longer in a black void, but a bland office, every seat filled up. There was a young woman behind the counter, but that wasn’t the odd part. She had green skin that clashed oddly with her red hair, she wore a red sequined gown, and a sash that said ‘Miss Argentina’.

The waiting room looked like a doctor’s office, and everyone was in varying degrees of death. One man was covered in burns and smelled like cigarettes, one woman had a bashed in head, and another looked like they had been hit by a car. All were, frankly, terrifying and disturbing to look at, so Miguel refocused on Miss Argentina behind the counter.

She was looking at Charles and Miguel with a vaguely concerned look. “Hm. I hope this isn’t a murder suicide. Those are always tricky to deal with. And you,” She pointed to Miguel. “Are supposed to be on the children’s level. Let me call someone-”

“Oh, uh, no thanks,” Miguel said quickly. “We aren’t dead, actually.”

Miss Argentina blinked. “What?”

“I came here to find someone.” Miguel said.

Miss Argentina’s mouth dropped open. “You came here on purpose?!” She said. “Are you crazy?!”

“Maybe.” Charles muttered.

“I’m not leaving without seeing my mom.” Miguel said.

“Sweetie, even if I knew your mother, it takes ages to go through our records. And you’re alive. You’re not supposed to be here. This place is for dead people.” Miss Argentina said.

“I don’t care,” Miguel said. “Being alive sucks anyway.”

Miss Argentina blinked, and then sighed. “Ah, so you’re one of those kids.” She leaned forward so only Miguel could hear her. “Look around, sweetie. Who do you see?”

Miguel hazarded a look, and then quickly refocused back on Miss Argentina. “Dead people?”

“Yep,” She said. “Do you think any of them would pass up a chance to go back to the world of the living?”

Miss Argentina didn’t wait for Miguel to answer. “You’re young. That doesn’t mean your feelings and grief don’t matter, but it does mean you aren’t quite old enough to see the big picture. This place? It’s not an escape. It’s just an eternity of waiting and wishing.”

“How would you know? You aren’t me.” Miguel snapped.

She smiled slightly. “I was hot. I went to parties a lot. You know?” She leaned back, evidently lost in memory. “I would drive Lamborghinis through mountains, and drink endless martinis on the yachts of Argentina’s finest. But I was depressed. Such low self esteem, I was an absolute mess.” She chuckled dryly, almost looking depressed.

“But let me tell you,” She fixed Miguel with a serious look. “If I knew then what I know now, I wouldn’t have had my little accident.” She held up her arms, showing off two deep, bloodless gouges in each wrist. 

Miguel felt sick. 

“Take it from me, sweetie. Life is short but death is super long.” Miss Argentina said.

“I still want to find my mom.” Miguel said. 

Miss Argentina opened her mouth, but there was suddenly a raspy shout from behind her. “Hey! What the hell do I pay you for?! Get a move on!”

Miss Argentina’s eyes widened, and she motioned for Miguel to move away. “You don’t pay me, Miss Juno.” She said. She waved to the other dead people in the room, and they all seemed to get the message, clustering around Miguel and his father so they were hidden.

“There’s been two open spaces, and no one’s come back?! What’s the holdup, you paintin’ your nails or something?!” The speaker sounded like a heavy smoker, and it was only confirmed when Miguel smelled strong cigarettes. He nearly gagged.

“Sorry, Miss Juno. Now serving number one million, three thousand seven hundred and five!” Miss Argentina said.

“What the hell are you doing just clustered here?!” Juno said, stomping ahead and shoving several of the dead people aside. She froze when she saw Miguel.

She was a somewhat short woman, with a sharp nose and white hair, wearing a gaudy red coat and skirt with heels. As Miguel suspected, she had a cigarette in hand. She blinked, and took a puff. Smoke came out of a long slit in her throat. “You’re alive.” She said, looking at Miguel and Charles.

Miguel didn’t know how she knew, but it didn’t really matter. “I’m just trying to find my mom.”

“You ain’t anymore.” Juno said, face contorting into something terrifying. “People don’t leave the Netherworld, kid. Not on my watch.”

**Author's Note:**

> yell at me, get updates and chit chat on my tumblr!  
https://www.tumblr.com/blog/toadintheroad


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